Bruises Fade
by Stephoscope
Summary: Joan is hurt by someone close to her, and Sherlock reveals a new side to himself. Rated M and trigger warning for abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry if it's not very well written, I'm not good at writing. I just have a lot of feelings about this couple**

"SHERLOCK" Joan called. No response. _Thank God_, she thought as she placed her bag down and removed her high heeled boots. _Seeing him is the last thing I need right now_. Joan made sure to keep her face down as she ascended the stairs to her room, just in case he popped out of somewhere like he often did. She stepped into her room and locked the door. She touched her cool hand to the fresh bruise around her right eye and began to sob quietly.

Sherlock had been on the roof, tending to the bees when he heard his name called._ Ah, it appears Watson is finally home , perhaps she can shed some light on the new case_, he thought. After tidying up from his work with the bees he began the descent into the Brownstone. "Watson! I have a quiet intriguing case. I was just-" he tried to fling the door to her bedroom open as he normally would but realized it was locked. This was extremely unusual. Watson almost always left her door unlocked, even when she was sleeping or changing.

He knocked twice. "Watson, are you alright?"  
"I'm fine Sherlock, just please leave me alone" she called back but with a slight shakiness to her voice from crying.  
"Watson you are blatantly lying to me. As you are aware I am extremely proficient at lock picking, so you can either open up or I'll open up for you. Your choice"  
Joan walked over to her door and unlocked it for Sherlock. He pushed it open and felt his blood go cold at what he saw.  
His beautiful best friend Joan had red, puffy eyes from crying and a large purple bruise around her right eye.

"Watson, what hap-"  
"It doesn't matter" said Joan, with her eyes dropping to the floor.  
This was very concerning to Sherlock. Usually Joan was strong, independent, and didn't take anyone's shit. But here she was, delicate and sad.  
"Joan, of course it matters." He said quietly.  
Joan looked up. He used her first name. He never did that. She saw the deep concern in his eyes and felt her eyes well up with tears. He took her slender hand in his and rubbed his thumb against the back of it.  
"Tell me what happened" he said quietly.  
"Well, you know how I've been seeing Mike for a while," she began. Sherlock nodded. He had never particularly liked Mike but he made Joan happy, so he tolerated him.  
"Well I felt like the romance had gone out of our relationship, so I went to his apartment to break it off. He didn't like that so..h-he…"she paused to collect her thoughts "he hit me."  
With this admission, Joan began to cry again. Silent tears rolled down her face and fell onto Sherlock's hand. He went to wipe away her tears but she began to speak again.

"I just feel like this is all my fault. I'm so bad at relationships. Mike was so nice to me and I didn't appreciate him. I deserve-"  
"No" said Sherlock. Joan lifted her head to meet his eyes. "You deserve the best. You're amazing. When your time was supposed to be over with me, I felt absolutely devastated. I honestly believe I would've gone back to drugs and ended up overdosing in some alley. But you stayed. Not because you had to but because you wanted to. And that was the day I -" Sherlock stopped himself.  
_I can't do this now, she has been to hell and back_, he thought.  
"Sherlock, I know. And I feel the same." She smiled at him. Sherlock could see that she meant it with all her heart. He leaned over to her and kissed her. Joan had never experienced a kiss like that before. Soft yet powerful, and conveying all the things they had not said. She breathed as their lips broke away momentarily to suck up more oxygen before they met again, Joan melted against his warmth, and kissed him back.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story was originally going to be a one-shot but I had a sudden rush of inspiration. Anyways agin I'm sorry if the writing isn't very good, I'm not used to writing stories. I do not own anything you recognise.**

Sherlock began to feel his control slip. He wanted her so much but he did not want their first time to be in this situation. He broke away from Joan. He looked into her beautifully deep brown eyes and it took an incredible amount of self control not to kiss her again.  
"Joan, I can't do this right now. Not with what you've been through tonight."  
Joan looked at him and nodded in agreement.  
"Is there anything I can get you?" He asked still holding her hand in his.  
"Tea would be amazing right now." Joan replied with a slight smile  
"Right, I'll be back in a little while love" Sherlock said standing up from the bed. "Just lie down and relax."  
This was the first time Joan had heard him call her anything except Watson or Joan. She liked the way it sounded coming from him.  
As soon as he left, Joan went to the mirror that hung in her room and lifted the front of her shirt so she could see her stomach and ribs. She looked at the damage that had been hidden by her clothing from Sherlock and felt her eyes well up with tears again.

She must've been standing there for longer than she realised because she was bought back to the present when she heard Sherlock open the door, returning with her tea. She hastily pulled her shirt back into position. But it was not quick enough to escape the notice of Sherlock. He set her tea down on her side table and walked over to her.  
"Joan what were you looking at?" he enquired, cupping her face in his hand.  
"Nothing really Sherlock" she replied, trying to avoid his piercing gaze.  
"Love, you said that last time and look at what that was. You can tell me"  
Joan remained quiet for a moment and then met Sherlock's eyes.  
"You have to promise not to freak out too much" she said  
"I'll do my best" he replied  
Joan gulped and started to lift her t-shirt. There were bruises on her ribs and Sherlock also spotted cuts on her arms and quite a few cigarette burns on her stomach.  
Sherlock gasped and Joan put her t-shirt back down, with a painful sob.  
"Joan, oh my God" he whispered.  
Joan was weeping quietly now. Sherlock pulled her into a gentle, loving embrace. Joan rested her head against his chest while he stroked her hair. He could feel her hot tears soaking through his shirt. He just wanted to hold her hard to his chest and never let go, never let another awful thing happen to her.  
"Joan, we need to treat your injuries." He said, breaking the long silence.  
Joan pulled her head away from his chest and looked up at him.  
"They're not too severe. If you don't mind, could we just treat them here?" She asked quietly.  
"Why?"  
Joan gave him a shy smile and said "If you take me to the hospital, they'll separate us, and right now you're the only thing that makes me feel safe"


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't know how long I'll make this story yet, but I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Reviews and favourites really encourage me to write more. :)**

Joan was lying on the living room couch with her shirt off. Sherlock was tending to her wounds, and in order to properly access them all, she had to remove her shirt. Surprisingly it did not feel awkward. Joan closed her eyes to prevent herself from looking at her injuries because every time she caught sight of them, her eyes filled with years. She was trying to focus on the feel of Sherlock's hands on her skin. She thought that his hands would be rough, but they were quite the opposite. His large hands were soft and graceful. if he touched a particularly painful area and she gasped with pain, he would flick his eyes up to meet hers for a moment until she nodded that it was okay to continue.  
"Right, I've done as much as I can at the moment" he said.  
Joan opened her eyes, sat up slowly, and put her shirt back on.  
"Can I get you anything Joan?" asked Sherlock  
"I wouldn't mind some aspirin" she replied.  
As Sherlock went off to find some, Joan went find a blanket she could use for comfort.  
She returned and curled up under it on the couch.

Sherlock stood in the doorway, looking at Joan. She hasn't said much since they were in the bedroom, and when she did speak it was mostly monosyllabic words. He was worried about her. He went over to the couch and crouched in front of her.  
"Joan, love, I think you need to talk to me about what happened to you tonight."  
She just looked into his eyes and blinked.  
Sherlock sighed. He would almost prefer Joan to be sobbing and screaming at him, rather than internalising her feelings.  
"Come on love sit up"  
Joan obliged and Sherlock sat himself down next to her. He took her hand and started rubbing it with his thumb. This gesture of live and kindness made Joan's eyes fill with tears again.  
"Joan you should talk about it. You know you're able to talk to me about anything, anytime. Do you trust me Joan?" Sherlock asked  
There was a long pause.  
"I do trust you Sherlock. I trust you with my life." Joan said, lifting her head to meet his eyes.  
"Then tell me what you're thinking."  
There was an even longer pause than before. Sherlock looked down at Joan and saw tears falling silently down her face. He squeezed her hand tighter and she squeezed back.  
"I-I felt like I d-deserved it" Joan admitted. "I still do. I still feel like I don't deserve to be here."  
Sherlock tilted her chin so that their eyes met and Joan saw that Sherlock had tears in his own eyes as well.  
"Joan," he said "you did not deserve any of that. No matter what, you don't deserve this. That man should rot in hell for what he did. You deserve to be here. You deserve to be happy. Please don't ever say that you deserved what he did."

Joan had never heard such sweet sentiment directed at her from anyone. She looked up at him again, and saw tears fall from his eyes. She began to feel her own tears fall again. She squeezed his hand again and cupped his face in her hand. His eyes flicked to hers and she kissed him. Briefly, but she tried her best to convey all her untold thoughts to him with that kiss. She pulled away and they just sat on the couch, curled up, trying to regain their composure.

Once they had relaxed again, Sherlock turned on the TV and put on a random procedural cop show. Joan raised her eyebrow quizzically at Sherlock.  
"It's good for a laugh." he replied simply  
Joan began to giggle uncontrollably. Sherlock smiled at her.  
Joan curled up against Sherlock and breathed in his scent. It was comforting and gave her hope that maybe she would get through this. Sherlock out his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. He wasn't really watching the show. He was thinking about Joan. He never thought he could love like this again after Irene. But then he had met Joan Watson. He hadn't been this happy in a very long time. He wanted to protect her from everything awful out there. He just wanted to love her.

Later that night Joan had fallen asleep against him. He muted the TV and just watched her sleep. The simple rise and fall of her chest made him love her even more. He stroked her hair and whispered a promise to her.  
"I will find the man who did this to you, and I will make him pay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys. Sorry it's been a while since I last updated this story, I've been pretty sick, and busy. Anyway here's another chapter, sorry if it's not really well written. I just have a lot of feelings about this ship. I do not own anything you recognize.**

Joan was sitting at their dining room table with a bowl of cereal in front of her. In the past she had almost never eaten cereal, but Sherlock's habits were beginning to rub off on her. She heard the unmistakable sound of Sherlock running down the stairs.  
"Just going to run some errands, you stay here and take it easy" he said stopping to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head before he walked out of the Brownstone.

Joan finished her cereal and decided to have a shower. As she waited for the water to heat up, she thought of Sherlock. He made her feel like she had never felt before. It was more than just physical attraction between them. When he was around she felt…valued. Like she was important to someone. Ever since the incident that caused her to leave her surgeon job, she had questioned whether her input was needed. But Sherlock had removed her self-doubt and opened up a whole new world to her.

She stepped into the steaming hot water and gasped as it cascaded over her fresh injuries.

Sherlock stood in the shadows of Mike's apartment. He knew that he would be returning from his daily run any moment now. He did not intend to kill Mike, or even badly injure him. He just wanted to make him realise that he should not have done what he did to Joan. Sherlock heard the click of his front door and watched the man enter the foyer of his apartment. Just as Mike was about to open his fridge for a drink Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a swift right hook to his jaw. Mike fell back onto his tiled kitchen floor. Sherlock stood over him, using all the intimidation tactics he was aware of.  
"I know what you did to Joan Watson" said Sherlock in a deep, rough voice.  
"The bitch was out of line" Mike said, wiping blood from his lip "What's it to you anyway?"  
Sherlock pulled Mike up and shoved him against the wall, grabbing his throat.  
"I'm not going to do anything else to you. But if you ever come near Joan again, I will find you and I will kill you." growled Sherlock, releasing Mike's throat and turning away.

"Oh, and don't bother calling the police. I have enough information on you that an abuse charge would be the least of your worries." Sherlock called as he slammed the door on his way out.

Joan was lying face down on her bed. The injuries on her stomach and ribs ached but she didn't even care right now. She didn't usually lie down and feel sad but it's all she wanted to do right now. She heard Sherlock's footsteps approach her bed. _Dammit, not now _she thought. He sat on the edge of her bed and placed his hand on her back. Sighing, Joan flipped over so she was lying on her side facing him.  
"Can I help you?" She asked, her words coming out harsher than she intended.  
"Joan, what's wrong love? Don't say it's nothing because it's clearly something." Sherlock asked using the low, quiet voice he used when he wanted to get information from an unwilling person.

Joan felt tears well up in her eyes again and turned back onto her stomach so Sherlock couldn't see. "Joan, sit up"  
"Why?"

'Just do it. Please?"  
Joan reluctantly sat up. Sherlock lay down on her bed with one arm out. He patted the bed with his other arm.

"C'mon love. We'll have a chat like this"

Joan couldn't resist. She snuggled herself close to Sherlock's firm, warm body. Sherlock held her hand.  
"Your hands are lovely Joan' he said stroking the back of one. "So soft and delicate."  
"They're just hands. Nothing special, just like me" she murmured, not realising what she was saying.

Sherlock looked down at her.

"What do you mean? You're spectacular."

Joan sighed.

"I'm not really anything special. I'm pretty average. When I was younger, no one ever really told me that I was beautiful, or gorgeous, or even pretty. My friends never even really said it to me. I was more of a background character. All my friends went out and did things and got into relationships and liked people that liked them back and had fun and did stupid things with their best friends and instead of doing all that I was just sort of this mildly entertaining thing that people take an interest in once in a while but they wouldn't really care if it was gone. I just sort of _existed_ but never really _meant_ anything. That's why I really wanted to become a surgeon. Because I'd be helping people, which would give me a purpose in life. "

Sherlock was stunned. Here was this beautiful, strong, independent woman who had just shared her innermost thoughts with him. It absolutely broke his heart. He pulled her closer and rested his head on hers.

"I had no idea…Joan…you have to realise that you are the world to me. I love having you around and you'll always have a special place in my heart. I never thought I'd feel anything even close to this after Irene died, but you…managed to fill a void I thought would be there forever. It takes someone pretty special to do things like that.

"I felt things for you when I first met you. I thought it was purely physical then. But what really made me fall for you was your personality. Your heart. You are one of the strongest, most independent women I have ever had the pleasure to meet. You're everything anyone could want."

Joan lifted her head to meet Sherlock's gaze. His lips met hers passionately, pulling her tight against her body as she opened her mouth to his, welcoming his love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry that I haven't updated in a while, I had so much writers block. Anyway here's the latest chapter. Note that it contains descriptions of assault that may be distressing. Read at your own discretion. I really appreciate all the favourites/reviews I've been getting. If you have any suggestions or ideas for the story, please let me know. Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**

It began soft and sweet but quickly intensified to heated and passionate. Sherlock groaned as Joan pulled herself on top of him. He slipped his hands under her shirt and began to caress her ribs, but something bought him back to the present moment. He felt one of her scratches under his fingers. He pulled away from her.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" Joan asked

"I can't do this right now. Not after what happened to you. It wouldn't be right" he replied rolling her off him and back onto her bed.

Joan sighed. She knew that once Sherlock's mind had been made up there was no way of changing it. She rolled over and heard her bedroom door close as Sherlock left her room. She knew it wasn't about her personally but this rejection didn't help her feelings of disconnectedness and loneliness. She hadn't seen any of her friends in recent times, or had time for dating, much less developing a proper relationship. Sherlock had come to mean so much more to her lately. He was her best friend, and she had started to develop feelings about him. He drove her insane sometimes, but occasionally he would do something, or say something that showed how deeply he cared for her. Tired of feeling, Joan rolled over and fell asleep.

Joan still felt frustrated the next morning. She awoke extra early so she could go for a run before starting a new case with Sherlock. She had put on her gear and exited the brownstone. It was so early that the street was deserted. The next thing she knew she felt a hand grip her wrist harshly, an pull her roughly towards them. She stumbled towards her attacker with a small gasp. No sooner had the sound escaped, did she find a hand smacking her across the cheek and then roughly placing a palm over her mouth so tight it kept back the other pitiful noises she was so tempted to make. It was then that she had no doubt that the hands gripping her with such force belonged to Mike.

Grabbing fistfuls of black locks, he pulled her without mercy and slammed her down onto the ground. She cried out, but it was cut short as Mikes' hand slapped down on top of her mouth, nails digging into the side of her cheek, finger covering her nose making it impossible to breathe. Her brown eyes grew wide as she struggled for air, flailing with her arms, aiming for his face until his hand slammed both her wrists down, holding them in place.

"You stupid girl." He said with a wicked grin on his face.

His hand released her mouth just as she began to feel faint. She gasped for breath, but was stunned still as she heard the unbuckling of his belt. She began to struggle again, screaming at the top of her lungs, until his hand slapped down across her face once more, stifling her sounds and suffocating her.

"Don't you love me Joanie, babe?" He asked

At the same time he removed his hand, and she knew it was so that he could hear her cry out from the rough push of his body.

"Well Joanie?" He asked as she gave another cry.

"Answer me!" He growled now, and grabbed her face with his free hand, shaking it until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Just as she was about to give him an answer, she saw something flying towards his head. She turned her face away and heard a bang as the object connected with his face. She looked back and saw Sherlock standing over Mikes' slumped body with a wooden stick in his hands. He dropped it and knelt down next to Joan.

"Are you hurt Joan?" He asked in an anxious voice.

She quickly gave herself a once over to assess the damage.

"I'll probably be bruised like hell tomorrow but I'm ok for now." She replied.

Sherlock picked her up and carried her back into the Brownstone.

"I've notified police. They'll be here soon. We can just leave Mike there for now." Sherlock said.

He placed Joan on the couch and took a seat next to her. He desperately wanted to hold and comfort her, but decided against it. Instead he retrieved a blanket for her and got her settled on the couch.

"The police will come for a statement soon. You should rest for now." He said as he stroked her hair. Joan drifted off almost immediately.


End file.
